221b Poetry
by In Love with JohnLock
Summary: Yet though the world explode, these two survive. Or is it always 1895?
1. Who is Sherlock Holmes

Hello.  
This is a collection of Poetry I have written about (BBC) Sherlock. I always appreciate a review, no matter how short or long, be it full of compliments or critisism.

Please feel free to point out any mistakes you can find. I want to improve my use of the English language as I am not a native speaker.  
But first, enjoy the first poem.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock Holmes or John Watson.

 **Who is Sherlock Holmes?**

On a first meeting, he might scare the person that he meets  
Cause his abilities are rare: with just one glance he reads  
Whatever clients want to ask; and knows the answer soon  
Needs not much time for such a task: barely from morn' till noon.

But still it happens, then and now, it's hard to see the clues,  
Yet in the end – you'll see – somehow he always finds the truth.  
I'll tell you how he figures out each client's mystery  
He always does, I have no doubt, and still it baffles me

That he has such a brilliant mind, that no-one can defeat.  
Yes, Sherlock is one of a kind, not many can compete!


	2. Random thoughts

So, these kind of poem is called "Elfchen" in German, I have no idea if there is an English equivalent.  
As you can see, they always consist of Eleven words per stanza, and quite often they are written as a chain, the last word of one stanza being used as the first of the following one.

I hope you like my "Elfchen" and would be very glad to find a review about them someday.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock Holmes, John Watson or James Moriarty.

 **Random thoughts**

Reunion  
John Watson  
And Mike Stamford  
Talking about their common  
Past

Past  
Sleepless nights  
Watching friends die  
Memories of the battle  
Nightmares

Nightmares  
Haunting John  
Might be defeated  
By finding a flatmate  
Sherlock

Sherlock  
Consulting detektive  
With high cheekbones  
A proper genius solving  
Crimes

Crimes  
Violent murders  
People have died  
That's what people do  
Caring

Caring  
Sherlock Holmes  
Doesn't have friends  
Sherlock's just got one  
John

John  
Army doctor  
Conductor of light  
He is protective and  
Caring

Caring  
No advantage  
Neglecting the logic  
A distraction from the  
Crimes

Crimes  
Explicitly staged  
By James Moriarty  
To discredit his opponent  
Sherlock

Sherlock  
Killing himself  
Leaving John alone  
He feels so powerless  
Nightmares

Nightmares  
Haunting John  
Being all exasperating  
Nobody can change the  
Past

Past  
Moving on  
Falling in love  
Then he comes back  
Reunion


	3. (Not) Always 1895

Based upon 221B by Vincent Starrett.  
The Original can be found at site/thescandalousbohemians/songs/lunar-luminary

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, or the year 1895.

 **(Not) Always 1895**

Here dwell I now, with him of whom I wrote  
Not all the thruth, but neither just a lie:  
Sometimes I make things up, sometimes I quote  
This men, who at first glimpse had caught my eye.

Sherlock, the game was on for many years  
While in my dreams, I always wanted you  
Saying farewell to you brought me to tears  
I've always hoped it would end with just us two.

Oblivion, like fog, should have hid' the pain  
That every night was stinging bittersweet  
But you came back, to stay and to explain  
Now we're together, finaly complete.

And if the world exploded, we'd survive  
Thank God it's no more eighteen ninety-five.


	4. The case of the missing scarf

Allright. This one's been written for the Sherlock Challenge on tumblr. The task was to write, paint or draw any stuff where Sherlock investigates in a little 'domestic crime'. Just in case anyone's interested: 221b poetry is my tumblr account.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock Holmes or John Watson

 **The case of the missing scarf**

Sherlock woke up at Baker street  
Made breakfast and prepared to greet  
Some clients he would later meet

One thing was not as it should be  
He noticed, sipping at his tea:  
His scarf was nowhere to be seen

It couldn't, it must not be gone  
It's always been his favourite one  
Shining in bright aquamarine

He climed on chairs, he stooped down low  
He turned around and walked quite slow  
Looking for clues around the scene

Opened the closets, peared inside  
But found out: there it did not hide  
Where was it then, what could it mean?

„ _Had it been Jim?"_ he asked concerned  
Could Moriarty have returned?  
Deaths can be faked, that much he'd learned

To the matter's heart he couldn't get  
That problem nearly drove him mad  
Finally, John did intervene

Made Sherlock sit, and soon explained  
That he had seen the scarf 'd been stained  
And thought it better should be clean.

He tried his best to calm him down  
But then he opened with a frown  
The door of the washing machine

„ _I thought it was all overrated  
That colours should be segregated!  
It seems, so wrong I've never been."_

The very moment their eyes met  
John's face turned - like the laundry - red  
Cause Sherlock's scarf was violet


End file.
